Teach Me
by katiek723
Summary: Cheerio!Kurt,Nerd!Blaine fic.'I can't believe you're hanging out with Blaine Anderson.' 'I told you, we're not hanging out.  Coach Sylvester said if I can't get my math grade up I'm off the team, so I'm getting my math grade up. That is it. Now drop it.'
1. Chapter 1

Blaine checked his bowtie in the mirror one final time, giving himself a small, satisfied smile. He picked up his bag and headed for the door.

'Bye mum, bye dad,' he called out over his shoulder.

'Bye honey,' his mother answered, coming around the corner to wave goodbye. 'Remember, you're father and I are going to the Smythe's tonight, so you'll have to make your own dinner.'

She looked at him thoughtfully for a second, before continuing. 'Maybe you could go over to friend's house? Or even have some people over here. You know we wouldn't mind.' She smiled expectantly at him and Blaine felt his heart sink.

'Yeh…Yeh, maybe mum.' He gave a small smile, before turning around and walking out the house.

He let himself drop back against the closed door with a thud and felt the tell-tale prickle behind his eyes. He screwed them tightly shut, his hands balling into fists at his side.

'Stop it, stop it, stop it,' he whispered to himself under his breath, but it didn't do any good. It never did.

He used to watch TV and be so excited about growing up and going to high school. He was going to have so many friends and do so many exciting things with them. But somehow it hadn't happened like that. The older he got, the less friends he seemed to have, until one day he realised he was that one kid at school that everyone avoided like the plague for fear of being a 'loser by association'.

He saw the groups of friends at school, chatting and laughing, making plans to go to the mall or hang out at each other's houses and wanted to be a part of it so much that it hurt.

He looked down at his clothes; his chequered shirt and neat bowtie. He knew he didn't dress like the other kids at school, that maybe if he changed what he wore, was a bit more like everyone else, he might not be so immediately, obviously identifiable as a _nerd, _but he didn't want to. He liked what he wore, he looked smart. He shouldn't have to change himself for them to like him. Should he?

With a sigh, he pushed away from the door and started walking towards school. '_Oh well,' _he thought to himself. '_I guess I'll just get an early start on my Biology project.'_

* * *

><p>'Kurt, would you put that damn phone down for one second,' Burt huffed.<p>

'Hmm? Yeh, sure,' Kurt replied, still tapping away on his phone.

'KURT!'

Kurt jumped at the shout, fingers slipping on the keypad.

'Oh great. Thanks dad,' he sneered, 'I just sent a half-finished text. Did you have to shout?' Burt gave him an incredulous look, before throwing his hands in the air and turning away.

'I just don't know why you need to have that thing permanently attached to your hand,' he said over his shoulder. ' We used to actually speak to each other at breakfast.'

'I can't help it if people want to talk to me. What would you have me do, ignore them?'

'Sounds like a good start.' Burt replied, nodding his head.

'Well I'm sorry dad, but as head cheerleader I have a reputation to uphold. I don't know what your problem is anyway. I'm popular, you should be proud.'

Burt shook his head and muttered under his breath, 'There are better things to be proud of than being popular, kiddo.'

'Sorry, what was that?' Kurt asked, already back to his phone.

'Nothing. Go to school, you're going to be late.'

'Oh crap,' Kurt shouted as he glanced at the clock. He ran into the hall, grabbed his sports bag and bounded through the door. 'Bye dad.'

'Don't forget your boo…' The door slammed shut and Burt dropped the history text book to the table. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper that was tucked in between the pages.

_Kurt Hummel_

_What factors led to the American Civil War?_

_The American civil war started because of was cuased by…_

Burt sighed to himself. He really didn't know what to do about Kurt these days. He used to be such a hard-working, polite, conscientious little boy. Sure, he wasn't the most popular kid, but he got good grades and was happy enough.

Ok, well maybe he had seemed a little less happy for a while, but then he turned up one day in a sheerleading uniform and that was that; from then on it was a constant stream of texts and phone calls, training and competitions, sleepovers and shopping trips.

Burt was glad his son had friends, of course he was, but sometimes he just missed the little boy who would sit and chat with him about his day and watch him in the garage with a wide-eyed look on his face, as if his old man was a superhero. Was that such a crime?


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine sat in his usual seat at the front of class, head bent low over his textbook as he worked through their assignment. Over the years he had become pretty adept at tuning out the mindless noise emanating from his classmates behind him, but when he heard the door open he glanced up and promptly dropped his pen to the floor.

'_God, he's magnificent.' _

He couldn't take his eyes off him; the way his uniform pants clung to his hips and the sleeves fit tight around his biceps. He was perfect. And then he turned his head just so and their eyes met across the classroom. It was the first time Blaine could ever remember Kurt showing any awareness of his existence and he felt his mouth go dry and his lips part ever so slightly to let out the faintest gasp.

He felt like he was floating, drifting up on a wave of…and then he came crashing back down as a spit wad smacked into the back of his head. It took him a moment to realise that the noise all around him was laughter; cruel, taunting laughter, and a moment longer to realise that it was directed at him.

'_Ooh, Hummel, I think you've got an admirer.'_

'_Watch out Kurt, he'll start humping your leg next.'_

'_Maybe he wants to show you his own little Cheerio.'_

Blaine dropped his head, blushing so intensely he could feel the tips of his ears burning with it.

'If you could all quiet down and carry on with your work, please,' their teacher finally interrupted. 'And Mr Hummel, I assume you have a valid excuse for being 15 minutes late to my class…'

Kurt waved a piece of paper in the air imperiously. 'Official Cheerios business,' he said. 'If there's a problem, you'll have to take it up with Coach Sylvester.'

'Just take a seat, Mr Hummel,' she replied with a sigh, obviously very used to this kind of behaviour.

Blaine sat stock still in his seat as Kurt brushed past him, and when the teasing whistles and whispers began once more he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and willed himself not to cry, _'God, why do I always have to cry?', _biting down hard on his lip as it began to tremble.

'Oh my god guys, I think he's going to cry,' someone whispered with glee. 'This is gold, quick get out your cam…'

'Shut up, Azimio.'

Blaine's eyes shot open at the sound of Kurt's voice.

'No seriously, Kurt, look at him, he's actually going to…'

'I said drop it.' Kurt's tone held no room for argument. 'Unless you want me to bad-mouth you to all of the Cheerios, along with every cheerleader in the country when we go to Nationals. Of course, if you _want_ to be celibate for the rest of your high-school career, then by all means, carry on.' Kurt raised his eyebrows and stared hard, daring Azimio to challenge him. He could only gape back and quickly shook his head and went back to his work. No one else dared comment.

Blaine couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Kurt had just stood up for him, defended him from his own friends. Kurt knew who he was!

He forced himself to keep looking down, not turn back to see if Kurt was showing any kind of acknowledgement of how important that moment was to him. He didn't want to get caught staring at him again. After all, he told himself, Kurt standing up for him once didn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. He had stood idly by every time he had been teased, tripped and tormented and never said a word in his defence. He couldn't rely on him to stop them the next time either.

It didn't stop the butterflies from spinning round his stomach.

* * *

><p>Kurt found himself drifting off, completely uninterested in whatever mindless conversation his friends were having around him. For some reason he just couldn't find the will to join in with them today. He snuck a glance a few rows ahead of him, to the back of an over-gelled head and ghastly white shirtsweater-vest combo. What was this kid thinking? Kurt had noticed him around before of course, in a vague 'just another nerd' kind of way, but he tended to steer clear of his teammates' cruel, ceaseless torment of anyone they deemed 'loser material'. It never seemed to hold the same spiteful delight for him as they obviously got from it.

But today he'd looked at him and caught his eye, and for some reason he hadn't been able to look away. It had only lasted a second or so, before the jeers and taunts of his classmates had filtered through the fog, and he'd snapped his eyes away, forcing a small chuckle out. But somehow, when Azimio said Blaine was crying, it had tugged at something inside him. He didn't know what or why. I mean come on, this kid was a walking disaster scene; the clothes, the hair, the ever-present pile of text-books tucked underneath his arm – it was like he was in a constant audition for 'stereotypical-high-school-loser-number-2' – but Kurt just didn't like the thought of him crying.

'_Jeez, where did all this sentimental bullcrap come from?' _he thought to himself, before shaking his head and looking away. _'It's probably just gas.'_

He looked back down at his workbook, but honestly couldn't make head nor tail of it, so took out his phone instead to rewatch last year's nationals and scope out his competition.

When the bell rang he packed up his bag and was making a beeline for Santana to discuss their upcoming practice when Becky Jackson came hurtling into the room.

'Coach Sylvester would like to see Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson in her office immediately,' she announced.

30 heads snapped around to stare, but no-one could have looked more surprised than Kurt and Blaine themselves. Blaine stood there, book half way into his bag (his ridiculous, over-stuffed backpack), mouth opening and closing like a gold fish, and Kurt had an eyebrow raised as if he didn't quite believe what had just been said.

'Ooh Hummel, what happened, did you and the nerd get caught doing the nasty?' Santana drawled beside him. He reached out and pushed her away without looking.

'Go check yourself for fleas, Satan. Becky, are you sure you got that right, me and _Blaine_?'

'Yes. And I said stat. Time's a-wasting Hummel.' And with that, she turned with a flourish and marched off again.

Kurt was in a state of shock. Sure he'd stopped Azimio from picking on him - he didn't want the kid to _cry, _I mean, that would just be embarrassing - but he didn't really want to have to actually associate with him. What would a kid like that even have to talk about? Math, probably. Damn, he was going to get shit about this for weeks; he'd just have to work them all extra hard at practice this afternoon so they knew who was boss, that was all.

With an overdramatic sigh, he checked his hair in the window and headed for the door. He could see Blaine scrambling to put his things to together, looking as if he was about to try and say something to him, but he kept his head forward and strode straight past him and out of the room. He would have to nip this in the bud, whatever _it _was.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine hurried along the corridor, tripping over his feet to keep up. He had no idea where Coach Sylvester's office was, never having had a reason to go there before, and was trying to keep sight of Kurt through the throng of students. He saw a flash of red turning left and made a beeline for it, when out of nowhere something hard and heavy slammed into him, his feet lost contact with the floor and he flew sideways. Before he even knew what had happened, he found himself pinned between the lockers behind him and a meaty shoulder pressing against his sternum.

He felt suspended in air, before an intense pain blossomed outwards from the centre of his chest. A moment later the weight against him vanished and he slid down to the floor.

'Gonna cry again, freak? Need us to call your mummy?'

Blaine looked up in time to see Karofsky high-five his team mates as he walked away, laughing loudly. He stayed silent, concentrating on trying to steady his breathing as people streamed past him, carrying on with their conversations and stepping over his legs as if he wasn't even there. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. '_Forget them. I don't need any them, I'm fine by myself,' _he told himself, but it took a few minutes before he stopped shaking enough to drag himself back to his feet. Taking short, shallow breaths, he headed off in the direction he thought Kurt had gone.

When he finally found himself standing outside Coach Sylvester's office, he was suddenly, irrationally scared. Kurt Hummel was inside that room. Beautiful, graceful, effortlessly immaculate Kurt Hummel. Not to mention scary-as-all-hell Coach Sylvester.

'I can hear you out there, mouth-breather,' a voice barked from inside, 'now get in here, and stop wasting my time.'

Blaine physically jumped, before hurriedly pushing open the door and scurrying to sit down, eyes trained on the floor.

'Well,' Coach Sylvester started, pausing for effect, 'now that you have finally deigned to grace us with your over-permed presence, I'll begin. Kurt, you are my most prized possess…cheerleader, my most prized cheerleader.' Kurt lifted his chin, preening under the compliment. 'But you have all the brain cells of a mildly retarded howler monkey.'

Blaine couldn't quite stifle his giggle at the outraged look on Kurt's face, but rapidly clamped his mouth shut when Kurt aimed a death-glare at him.

'Hummel, your grades are atrocious.'

'Only because you have me training so often I don't have time to study,' Kurt responded, throwing his hands in the air.

'Be that as it may, I have the principal on my back and all my soldier…cheerleaders all my cheerleaders, must maintain a grade B average if they are to be allowed to compete. You currently average C-, and since you are my head cheerleader and I have no intention of going to Nationals without you, I have arranged for you to be tutored by Bob.'

'It's Bla…'

'Coach Sylvester are you serious?' Kurt burst out, incredulous. 'He's a complete nerd. He likes math and he wears bowties and he doesn't wear socks.' He held out his hands, as if he couldn't fathom why someone would ever do this.

'Sorry, Porcelain, but until your grades get as high as your kicks, you're stuck with Tub O' Gel here as your tutor.'

'This is so unfair. My stock around here is going to plummet.'

Blaine looked back and forth between the two. Didn't he get a say in this?

'Well, it's decided then. Now get your rancid, disease-bearing carcasses out of my office. My ovaries need steaming and you don't want to be here to see it happen. '

Apparently not.

* * *

><p>Kurt was fuming. How could Coach Sylvester do this to him? Who cared if he was failing a few classes? He was going to be on Broadway, you didn't need maths or history to be a star. Besides, he could get a cheerleading scholarship to any college he wanted.<p>

He let out a loud, frustrated sigh and dropped his forehead forwards onto the locker in front of him. 'Why me?' he said into the cold metal. He rolled his head sideways to look at Blaine, who was putting book after heavy book into his bag, occasionally sneaking nervous glances at him, looking as if he was about to say something, but always losing nerve at the last minute.

'_At least he's kind of cute…in a tragically innocent and unpopular sort of way_,' Kurt thought to himself. Not that he would ever admit such a thing. To anyone. Ever. He shook his head, as if he could shake the thought right out of it. Seriously, where did that even come from? Today had just been too weird. '_Right, well best get this over with as quickly as possible.'_

He rounded on Blaine, hands on his hips, with a stern expression on his face.

'So, _Bob,'_ he said, smirking as Blaine blushed, 'when and where? I have practice every day after school and I have no intention of spending my weekends _studying._' He said it with a grimace, as if the very word left a bad taste in his mouth. 'So you better be okay with late nights.'

'Ok, yeh, w..whenever you're free is f..fine,' Blaine stuttered under Kurt's scrutiny.

'Seriously, you can just do any time? You don't have _any_ plans?' Kurt looked incredulous, but couldn't stop the spike of guilt that went through him as Blaine's face fell and he dropped his gaze to the floor, biting at his lip.

'So,' he said brightly, trying to move swiftly past the awkward silence, 'tonight? The sooner we get started the better, right?'

'Oh, sure, sure,' Blaine replied, nodding his head. 'Uh…my parents are out tonight, so you could maybe come round to mine?' He said it as timid question. 'We'd have the house to ourselves.'

'Ooh Blaine, at least buy me a drink first.' Kurt brought his hand to his chest in mock outrage. 'What kind of boy do you think I am?' He laughed out loud at the look of shock that immediately appeared on Blaine's face.

'Oh, no, gosh no, I didn't…I mean, um…that's not what I meant,' he blurted out, stumbling over his words to try and get them out fast enough. His face was bright red and he was rubbing at the back of his neck as if he thought a genie might pop out and grant his wish to make him vanish on the spot. It was actually pretty adorable.

'_Hmm,' _Kurt thought to himself, _'maybe this little venture won't be a total waste of my time after all._'

He held his hand out in front of him.

'Phone.'

Blaine stared at him, confused. 'What?'

'Your phone, give me your phone, Blaine. Jeez, I thought you were supposed to be smart.'

Blaine fumbled in his pockets, holding his phone out tentatively to Kurt, who snatched it away and tapped something in with practiced ease before handing it back.

'There, now you have my number.' He threw it back to Blaine, who nearly tripped over his own feet trying to catch it. 'Text me your address and I'll come over after practice.'

'Ok,' Blaine said, with a shy smile. Kurt started to walk away, but after a few steps stopped and called out over his shoulder, 'Oh, and Blaine…'

'Yes?'

'Make it interesting.' He gave a seductive wink, before striding off down the corridor.

Blaine could only stand and gape.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: This is the second to last of the chapters that have already been written, so updates will be a bit slower. Feel free to hassle me about updates as much as you want.**

* * *

><p>Blaine paced back and forth across his bedroom floor, wringing his hands together in front of him. Kurt Hummel was coming to his house. Kurt Hummel, in his cheerleading uniform,<em> 'don't think of the uniform, oh god, don't think of the uniform,' <em>was coming to his house. Kurt Hummel, who had winked at him. Why had he winked at him? What did that mean?

_'Oh god, why is Kurt Hummel coming to my house, how have I let this happen? This was a bad idea, such a bad idea. I should text Kurt now, tell him not to com__e.'_

He stopped pacing, and sat down on the side of his bed with a heavy thud, picking nervously at his fingers. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't wan't to text Kurt and cancel. The thought of spending his evening doing something other than homework was actually very appealing. Of course, technically he would still be doing homework, but still, getting to speak to someone other than his parents…

The shrill ring of the doorbell broke through his reverie and his head shot up at the sound of it. His mouth was suddenly dry as ash. How was it time already? With an audible gulp he pushed himself off from the bed and made his way downstairs. He stood at the front door, trying to build the courage to open it, when a voice, clear and sharp as cut glass drifted across it.

'I can hear you there, Blaine. You know Coach Sylvester was right, you really do breathe very loudly. You should probably get someone to look into that.' When he got no response, he continued. 'Well…are you planning on letting me in any time soon, it's actually quite cold out here.'

Blaine hurriedly threw open the door.

'Oh…uh…sorry about that.' He stepped back, arm outstretched. 'Come in.' He smiled shyly as Kurt breezed past him and dropped his bag and coat by the staircase.

'Got anything to eat?' Kurt asked. 'Tough practice tonight, I'm starving.'

'Sure, sure…um…kitchen's right over here,' he gestured, 'take anything you want.'

Kurt stopped and turned to look at him, an amused look on his face.

'Anything I want? You really should be careful what you offer people, Blaine, never know when they might take you up on it.'

Blaine's mouth dropped open in surprise. 'Wh…what…oh…I di….'

Kurt threw his head back, laughing. 'Relax, Blaine, I was joking. Although you are very cute when you blush.'

Blaine's cheeks turned deep crimson and Kurt finally took pity on him. 'I'll have some fruit and a coffee please, and then let's get this damn homework over with.'

Blaine stared after Kurt as he strode into the living room, sat down on the sofa and took out his phone. He let his eyes drift upwards.

'_Oh God, what have I got myself into?'_

* * *

><p>'This doesn't make any sense!' Kurt burst out, throwing his pen down on the table with his usual dramatic flair. 'Why do I even need to know this stuff anyway? Who cares what 'x' equals? When will that ever be of use to me?'<p>

Blaine was silent for a moment, worrying his lip between his teeth as he thought how to answer. 'It does make sense,' he started, voice quiet and nervous as if expecting Kurt to shout at him some more. 'You're just not looking at it the right way.'

'Well you're my tutor, aren't you supposed to tell me how I should be looking at it?' He said, folding his arms in front of himself and glaring down at Blaine with a well-practiced scornful expression. He felt a small stab of guilt as Blaine shrank backwards and dropped his gaze to the floor, but didn't back down. He needed someone to take his frustration out on, and who better than nerdy, too-polite-to-ever-defend-himself Blaine Anderson?

'Um, well…you see, they have to balance,' Blaine stuttered, still not meeting his gaze. 'So, you put all the Xs on one side and then you cancel them and…'

'No, no' Kurt interrupted, 'you're just spouting letters and words at me and crossing things out and it's all just meaningless.'

Blaine sat back in his seat, and rolled his eyes.

'Don't do that.' Kurt spat out. 'I'm not stupid.'

He'd never cared about doing badly at school before, but for some reason Kurt found himself hating the way Blaine was looking at him, as if this was the simplest thing in the world and he had no idea why Kurt couldn't understand it.

'I know you're not,' Blaine replied softly. He took a small sip of water and swallowed thickly. 'It's not your fault, it's mine. I'm just not very good at explaining things to people. I…I don't get much practice.' His voice was so quiet and sad that Kurt felt all his anger drain away in an instant, replaced only by pity and guilt. He shouldn't be taking this out on Blaine. Sure he was weird and bad_, really_ _bad_, at social interaction, but he was sweet enough, and he was actually trying to help him.

'I'm sorry I shouted you.' He said, and the look of shock on Blaine's face made him laugh out loud. 'Ok, no need to look so surprised, it's not that unusual to hear me apologise,' he joked, and felt a strange warmth spread through him as Blaine laughed back.

'Oh, wow,' he said, looking over Kurt's shoulder with wide eyes.

'What?' Kurt asked, turning in his seat, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

'I just saw a pig fly by.'

'Oh ha ha ha.' Kurt turned back around, glaring at Blaine's smug grin. 'Well looky here, Blanderson made a joke. I guess I must be teaching you something too,' Kurt teased, but his tone was gentle and he smiled as he said it.

Blaine flushed and looked down.

'Look, I know I'm being a bitch, I just want to get this out of the way so I can carry on cheerleading. It's the only thing I actually enjoy doing and I don't want to lose it because of some stupid equations.'

Blaine narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, staring at him in a strangely intense way.

'What? Is there something on my face?'

'I think I know how to teach you,' Blaine said, a grin slowly spreading over his face. 'When you're cheerleading, you're top of the pyramid, right?'

'Of course,' Kurt replied, nose in the air. As if anyone else would be top of the pyramid.

'So, to make sure you don't fall, the bottom of the pyramid has to be balanced, right? There has to be an equal amount of strength on each side, or they'd drop you.' He looked up, eyes wide and eager and wow, those eyes were bright. And golden_. 'Who even has golden eyes?'_ And those lips, faintly reddened and plump from being worried and bitten at by a nervous Blaine.

'_Whoa, knock it off Hummel.' _Kurt shook his head, completely taken aback by the array of unwanted thoughts suddenly flooding his head. '_Maths, we're doing maths, think of the maths.'_

He looked back down at the paper, where Blaine, completely oblivious to Kurt's wondering thoughts, had drawn an array of stick-figure pyramids, different combinations of girls and boys on each side, and a little 'girl = x' scribbled at the top of the page . He looked at the simplest one; two girls on one side and one boy on the other. He felt like a cartoon character, with a light-bulb suddenly appearing above his head.

'So…if the girls are 'x', I just move all the girls to one side and all the guys to the other.' He looked at one of the more complicated pyramids. 'So in this one, there are 6 girls and 3 guys, so…6x=3. x=3/6, a half? He looked up to see Blaine grinning excitedly at him.

'You got it.'

'Alright, alright, I'm not special-ed,' Kurt grumbled, but couldn't stop his mouth from flicking up at the corner. It felt surprisingly good to actually understand his work for once. He looked back at Blaine, who was studiously drawing more and more complicated pyramids, eyebrows screwed together in concentration. Kurt felt a sudden rush of fondness sweep over him. He was really quite adorable.

It was almost a shame he would have to ignore him at school tomorrow.

Almost.

He did have a reputation to uphold, after all.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yeh, I have no idea if thinking about equations like that would actually help. Also, they were ridiculously simple equations for someone Kurt's age, but whatever...<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

'You're in a good mood this morning, honey,' Mrs Anderson said with a fond smile as Blaine flitted through the kitchen, humming lightly under his breath.

'Hmm, what? Oh, yeh I guess,' he replied, hastily stuffing his toast into his mouth to hide the grin that was attempting to spread across his face. It was one week and three revision sessions since Coach Sylvester's impromptu meeting, and Blaine couldn't believe how different it felt to wake up in the morning with something to look forward to.

He knew he was being silly; after all, Kurt still hadn't so much as acknowledged him when other people were around, but their evenings together were filled as much with light-hearted teasing (almost invariably at Blaine's expense, although he did manage the odd witty comeback when he stopped blushing enough to actually form coherent sentences) as they were with homework, and on Friday, when he had caught Kurt daydreaming and doodling a Tardis, they had ended up in a heated debate on Tennant vs Smith before either of them noticed their hour was long-since over.

He had left that session walking on air, and even Kurt's stern warning never to mention to anyone ever that he was a closet British sci-fi fan on fear of violent retribution hadn't been enough to pull him back down to the ground.

His phone buzzed, jolting him out of his daydream, and he hastily snatched it out of his pocket. That could only be one person; other than his parents only one person even had his number.

…

**7:28 From Kurt**

**Gotta help my dad at the garage after practice 2day, so Sp-Ed Math is a no go**

…

The disappointment barely had time to show itself on Blaine's face before he received two more texts in quick succession.

…

**7:29 From Kurt**

**Less ur free at lunch instd? 1pm in the libry?**

…

…

**7:29 From Kurt**

**Scratch that, make it the choir room, librys make my head hurt**

…

Blaine didn't even try to hide his smile as he replied.

…

**7:30 To Kurt**

**Of course I'm free. Although please tell me that's just an abbreviation, and not how you actually think you spell library?**

…

…

**7:31 From Kurt**

**Shut it, Blanderson. Go read a dictionary, or whateva it is u do in ur spare time :p**

…

'Who was that honey?' Blaine's head snapped upwards; he had completely forgotten his mom was standing right there.

'Oh, uh…no-one,' he stuttered, hating how easily he blushed, 'just a guy from school.' His response was mumbled under his breath, but it was clear his mom had heard him, as her eyes opened wide in surprise.

'Someone from school? Oh well, that's…that's great, wonderful, really wonderful,' she babbled, clearly not expecting this turn of events. 'Who is it? Someone from class? What did they say?' She sat herself down across from him, hands on her knees, leaning just enough into his personal space that his bowtie started to feel too tight around his neck. He tugged at it, before pushing his chair back from the table and all but run for the door.

'It's no big deal, mum,' he muttered with a shrug of his shoulders.

He wanted to be annoyed or offended that the thought of him receiving a text was so thrilling, but if he was being completely honest with himself, he didn't blame her.

'I'm just tutoring someone so they don't get kicked off the Cheerios. It's really nothing.' He had just brought his hand up to open the front door, when a gentle touch on his arm stopped him. He turned around and was met with her hand cupping his face.

'I'm just happy for you, baby boy,' she said softly, tears shining in her eyes. 'It's been so long since we've seen you truly smile…' she stopped, her voice choked, and Blaine felt such guilt at making his own mother feel like this.

'Maybe next time you could invite him for dinner?'

That had to be the worst idea in the history of ideas. There was no way in a million years he was ever going to… but she was looking at him, eyes wide and shining with happiness that he just couldn't bring himself to say no to her.

'Yeh…sure Mum,' he said with a forced grin before turning away and making a hasty escape.

As the door shut behind him he let his face fall and his heart sink through his boots.

'_What the hell did I just agree to? I can't ask…. He'll think I'm completely mad… stalking him or something. Oh God.'_

* * *

><p>Kurt's hips swayed lightly in time to the music. He let his eyes drift closed as the sound washed over him. He loved this; the way his body automatically found the groove of a song, slipped into the beat without him even having to think about it. It was the only time he felt truly comfortable in himself.<p>

'KURT, YOU WHORE! Stop humping air and get your skinny butt over here.'

Kurt sighed dramatically, dropping his head forwards to rest on his locker. There was only one person who could be trusted to make herself heard over noise-cancelling-headphones. He plucked the buds from his ears one by one and straightened up, turning to face her.

'Morning, Tana. You're in a pleasant mood as ever, I see.'

'Shut-up, Hummel, you love me,' she drawled, 'now hurry it up 'fore forgets we're friends and do you some damage.'

Kurt shook his head affectionately and headed towards her. He froze for a moment, seeing a familiar head of curls emerging from behind a backpack over her shoulder. He watched for a few moments; hands fumbling with his locker combination, lips pursed in concentration. God he was such a geek; an adorable, flustered one sure, but still, how did anyone even get to be that much of a geek?

Kurt smiled fondly to himself.

'What the hell are you so happy about?' Santana questioned, snapping him out of his thoughts. 'Remembering some hot piece of action?' She said with a wink.

Kurt fixed her with a withering look, not deigning to answer, and she rolled her eyes.

'Whatever, Hummel, didn't know you were such a prude.'

'Come on,' he said, linking his arm with hers, 'before we're late and both end up in detention. Again.'

They headed off down the corridor, but Kurt couldn't help but look across just as they were level with Blaine, who was now struggling to extricate an oversized textbook from his bag. He chuckled lightly and before the thought had even fully formed in his head called out, 'See you at lunch, B.'

The startled jump and look of surprise on Blaine's face when he realised someone had spoken to him, and the soft blush that spread across his cheeks when he realised _who_ had spoken to him made Kurt feel inexplicably warm inside.

He smiled and turned back to find Santana openly staring at him, an incredulous look on her face.

'What?'

'_See you at lunch, B_?' She said, slowly, over-enunciating the words so they sounded twisted and mocking.

'He's tutoring me. You know this, Tana, it's not news,' Kurt replied, turning his head away in a way that he hoped was indifferent. He didn't like the intensity of her stare.

'Yeh, but I didn't know you were making lunch-dates out of it,' she said, eyebrows raised pointedly.

'Oh shut it, Satan, I'm free this lunch, he's obviously free, because come on, what else is he going to be doing? That's it. It's convenient.'

'Hmm,' she hummed under her breath, but didn't look at all convinced.

They walked in silence the rest of the way, taking their usual seats at the back of the class. Their teacher had just begun to say something incomprehensible when Santana muttered out of the side of her mouth, 'I can't believe you're hanging out with Blaine Anderson.'

Kurt rounded on her, answering back in as imperious a tone as he could manage whilst whispering.

'I told you, it isn't 'hanging out'. Coach Sylvester said if I can't get my math grade up I'm off the team, so I'm getting my math grade up. That is it. Now drop it, or I might just forget to tuck my elbows in next practice and you'll end up looking like Rachel Berry.

* * *

><p><strong>AN; So, that's all I have written for now. But, I won't be too busy at work this week and then I have a week off, so should be able to get lots written.<strong>

**Should I still keep posting the half-chapters on tumblr, or just wait and put them here when they're finished? Anyone got preferences?**


	6. Chapter 6

Blaine could hardly focus all morning. He daydreamed his way through math and doodled over his history book. Mrs Carter even asked if he needed to go to the nurse after she asked him about the causative factors of the civil war and he gave her an uncharacteristic blank, confused stare.

He just couldn't help it. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on his work, all he could think about was that perfectly clear skin, that perfectly styled hair and that perfectly elegant voice.

'_See you at lunch, B.'_

He sighed loudly and dropped his head into his hands. He knew he was acting like a silly 12-year-old school girl, that Kurt deigning to acknowledge his existence in public with one 5-word, throw-a-way sentence didn't mean anything, but the message didn't seem to be getting through to his heart, which, although calmer than before, was still beating unhealthily fast for a history lesson.

He jumped in his seat as the bell rang for lunch, and scrambled to gather together his books. He tried to keep the smile from his face as he left the classroom and made his way towards the library, but somehow those little muscles tugging at the corners of his mouth were stronger than he ever remembered them being before. Deciding he was well and truly beat, he gave up the battle, surprising himself as a small giggle fell from his lips.

This was going to be the first lunch time that he wasn't spending either alone or with a teacher for years. He fiddled nervously with his bowtie. Having no-one to sit with had never really bothered him before, or at least he had managed to pretend to himself that it hadn't, but now that he…

…

…

…

He froze, stock still, chunks of slimy, sticky ice slowly dripping their way down his face.

He kept his eyes screwed tightly shut to stave off the burning he knew was coming, and took a deep, shaky breath as laughter and jeers rang in his ears.

It didn't seem to matter how many times this happened, it was still humiliating down to his very bones; the way everyone turned to stare, the click-click-click of mobile phones, the delighted whispers that spread like wildfire and worst of all, the fact that no-one, not one single person, came to his defence.

Sitting alone at lunchtime, face buried in a textbook, it was easy to tell himself that he didn't care, that at least his good grades and guaranteed ticket out of this town were worth the pay-off, but standing alone in the middle of the corridor, shivering as much from the shock and upset as the ice dripping down the back of his neck, it was a lot harder.

Knowing full well that if he made any kind of response, showed them any emotion, the worse the laughter, the videos posted online and the jokes at his expense were going to be, he lifted his head high and walked towards his locker to collect his spare set of clothes.

The crowd of students parting in front of him to avoid the sticky mess made him feel more like a leper than he already did and he had to swallow down the sick feeling that was rising in his throat.

He tried to recapture the joy he had been feeling only minutes earlier, but sticky ice sliding down your pants didn't really inspire feelings of joy.

The one positive, he supposed (and he always, always looked for a positive), was that no-one could see him blush behind the bright-red corn syrup.

* * *

><p>Kurt was fuming. Ten minutes, he'd waited ten whole minutes and Blaine still hadn't shown up. People were already beginning to stare. Kurt Hummel did not spend his lunchtimes sitting on his own in the library. This was just embarrassing.<p>

If this was Blaine's idea of some stupid prank he was going to be seriously sor…

Kurt drew in a cool breath through his teeth as goose pimples prickled up along his arms. He watched Blaine hurrying over, pushing his way past tables and sticking out chairs, a flustered look on his face.

But it wasn't his harangued demeanour that caught Kurt's attention, it was…everything.

Instead of his usual plastered-down do, Blaine's hair sprang up in tight curls, and in place of his usual buttoned-up shirt and bowtie, he was wearing a white t-shirt, clearly a size too small, which clung around his arms in a way that made Kurt's mouth go dry.

Who was this guy? This wasn't Blaine; shy, flustered, nerdy, badly-dressed Blaine.

'I'm sorry, I…I didn't…sorry, I ran….wouldn't be l..late,' Blaine stopped talking, resting his hands on the table and panting heavily.

Ok, so maybe shy, flustered and nerdy still applied, but badly-dressed he certainly wasn't. Kurt would never have believed he would appreciate sweats and a t-shirt, but boy did they work on Blaine. Who would have thought he had that body hiding underneath it all?

He forced himself to stop staring as Blaine finally caught his breath and sat himself down at the table.

'So…?' Blaine just looked at him blankly. 'Well…is there an explanation behind this sudden change in image, or did I just finally get through to you?'

Blaine blushed and looked down at his outfit, one hand reaching up to play nervously with a stray curl.

'Oh…uh, yeh. Got slushied,' he said with a shrug, as if it was a pretty common occurrence. 'Apparently I forgot to bring in a spare set of clothes after the last time so…gym-bin it is.'

Kurt wrinkled his nose at the thought of the gym-bin.

'Yeh,' Blaine shared his distaste. 'They're washed though. At least, I really, really hope they are.'

Kurt couldn't help his smile as Blaine smoothed his hands over the t-shirt, as if that would smarten his appearance.

'Well, it suits you,' Kurt admitted. Blaine's eyebrows raised in surprise.

'Really? This? Old, possibly unwashed gym clothes?'

'Ok, ok, I'm not saying it's all you should wear, but it definitely beats up-tight geek. I mean, seriously, how do you even breathe with those things constantly wrapped around your throat?'

Blaine's hand moved towards his neck subconsciously.

'I like them,' he said softly, 'they're smart.'

Kurt just smiled and reached out to twirl a curl around his finger.

'And what about these, huh?' he said with an amused look.

'Oh god.' Blaine pulled back, flushed bright red. 'Those I do not like.' He tried to smooth his hair down, but it automatically sprang back up again. 'They're so embarrassing.'

Kurt laughed out loud. 'I love it. The bowties, the checked shirts, the books, they're all fine, but no, it's the hair you're embarrassed about.'

'It's just not very…'

'Smart?'

They both shared a smile, before Blaine ducked his head shyly.

'We should…we should get to work.'

45 minutes later, Kurt could feel his attention drifting as he worked through yet another equation. Blaine was working hard at his own problems, tongue peeking out between his lips in concentration.

'_Wow, he really is adorable,' _Kurt thought, surprising himself at how his mind didn't immediately race to shut down that thought like it usually did. Before he could stop himself, he reached out to pluck at Blaine's hair once more.

'Sorry, sorry, I couldn't help myself.' He raised his hands in mock surrender as Blaine glared and batted his hand away.

'This is why I gel my hair,' Blaine huffed, 'people won't leave it alone.'

'It's just so bouncy and curly,' Kurt giggled, leaning forwards to touch it again. Blaine laughed and grabbed his hand, tugging at it, until suddenly they found themselves eye to eye.

They both pulled back at the same time, looking away awkwardly. Kurt wasn't quite sure what had just happened, but he knew that seeing Blaine laugh like that felt nice; nicer than anything had in a long time.

'Seriously,' he said, looking back at Blaine, who was still blushing intensely, 'you should wear your hair like that more often. It's cute.'

Blaine didn't answer for a few moments, staring instead at his hands in his lap, fingers twisting furiously, and Kurt could tell he was steeling himself to say something.

'Um..I was just…do you..my…'

'Jeez, spit it out, B.'

'Maybe next time we study at mine, you could stay for dinner, I mean, if you wanted.'

Kurt didn't have time to answer, before a blur of red came bursting out from behind a bookshelf and planted herself in front of them, hands on her hips.

'Oh you have got to be kidding me.'

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for the wait, I really wanted to get another chapter of 'Help' out before this, but it was just not happening. In future I'll just write whichever one is calling me, and not try to force it.<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Hey guys, sorry for the wait. And sorry to everyone patiently waiting for another chapter of 'Help'. I have desperately been trying to finish chapter 18, but for some reason I'm finding it really hard to write at the moment, which is why I wrote this and some other drabbles instead. **

* * *

><p>'Oh you have got to be kidding me.'<p>

Santana Lopez stood in front of him, hand pressed firmly on her hips and face fixed in a nasty sneer.

Blaine blinked up at her, thrown by the sudden interruption and a little confused as to exactly what was happening. His eyes flitted towards Kurt for reassurance.

'What are you doing here, Santana?' Kurt finally spoke up. Blaine could see the nervousness written clearly across his face, not comfortable with these two aspects of his life coming together in this way.

'I came to make sure you weren't putting all of our reputations at stake, Hummel, and clearly it was a good thing I did.'

'Look Santana, I don't know what you think is…'

Blaine couldn't concentrate on what they were saying, when all around him he could see people noticing the heated exchange, their faces turning in their direction as their interest piqued. Even from this distance he could see the mean-spirited glee on their faces at the prospect of the public airing of dirty laundry. Some of them were even starting to get up from their seats and move closer to the action.

He forced himself out of his thoughts and turned back to Kurt, who had now stood to face Santana.

'He is just tutoring me, Santana. Seriously, what will it take to get this into your head?'

'You are blind, Hummel. Can you not see the way he looks at you?' A look crossed Kurt's face that Blaine couldn't quite decipher, but when he heard people around them start to snicker he flushed and looked down.

'And I heard him ask you round for dinner. Oh my god,' she said slowly, taking a step back, hands held up as if she had just made a startling discovery. 'Does he think you're dating or something?'

She turned towards Blaine, cruel laughter evident on her face. 'Oh, he does? I think he actually does. Seriously, that is too precious.'

The quiet sniggers of their audience turned into full blown laughter, and Blaine could feel his face nearly burning with the heat of his blush. And then his embarrassment was encompassed by fear as Santana Lopez, meanest, scariest, nastiest queen bee that ever stepped out of Lima Heights Adjacent stalked towards him, finger jabbing at his chest.

'Look, Blanderson. My boy Hummel has a boyfriend. A really hot, college-going, car-owning boyfriend. But even if he didn't he would still be so far out of your nerdy little bow-tie-wearing, no friends, loser grasp, that he might as well be straight for all the chance you'd stand with him. Now, he's already doing his reputation, and mine by association, a whole lot of damage by standing next to you long enough to try and absorb some of your geeky brain waves, or whatever, but if you even so much as think about clamouring around for more, I will end you. You gots me?'

Blaine couldn't speak, couldn't even nod. His eyes flickered around the room at the faces loving every minute of this, the phones capturing it all, and all he could hear was their laughter ringing in his ears. And that's when he realised it. _All _he could hear was their laughter. Nothing else. No clear, sharp voice coming to his defence.

Mustering all his strength to fight the desperate urge to lust keep looking at the floor and shrink inwards, he tilted his head up and looked towards Kurt. He stood behind Santana, jaw clenched tightly, hands in fists by his side. Their eyes met momentarily, and Kurt's widened in silent apology, before he looked away, silent.

Blaine felt winded. He didn't think he had even felt so desperately, painfully alone in all his life. He could feel the tears burning his eyes, and needed to get out of there before he gave them anything else to laugh about. He didn't bother to collect his books together or pick up his bag. He just turned and ran.

* * *

><p>Kurt watched Blaine run out of the library. His chest ached with the strength of his guilt, but he just couldn't bring himself to stand up and speak in Blaine's defence. No, not couldn't. <em>Wouldn't. <em>If he was going to stand by as Blaine fled in tears, he was at least going to be honest with himself. He _wouldn't _stand up for Blaine. Not in front of so many people, so many laughing, jeering faces all directed towards Blaine. If he came to his defence, they would be directed towards him too, and he didn't want that.

So he said nothing and let Blaine run. He felt bile rise up in his throat as someone stuck out there leg just as Blaine was reaching the door, and he went flying over it, landing sprawled out on the floor with a cry. The roar of laughter that erupted made him sick to his stomach.

Who were these people? Didn't they have any feelings, any soul? He looked around; he knew most of them by name, shouted out greetings and high-fived them as they passed in the corridor, shared jokes and drinks at parties and at Breadsticks. These were the people that had given him his so desperately sought-after popularity. They were his friends, and they made him feel so disgusted and so ashamed that he honestly didn't want anything to do with them ever again.

He looked over at Santana, at her smug, smirking face, and his decision was made. Without a word to her, he gathered up both his and Blaine's belongings and stalked down the library, head held high.

When he reached Blaine, who had just about managed to peel himself up off the floor and into a sitting position, he ignored the gasps and whispers of the crowd and crouched down beside him.

'Oh Blaine,' he said softly, taking in the steady stream of tears and the trickle of blood from his nose. 'Come on,' he urged, gently lifting him by the elbow and leading him away.

They walked without speaking to one another, only Blaine's shuddering breaths and quiet sniffs accompanying them. A few people made comments or faces as they passed by, but Kurt silenced them with a sharp glare, which promised more if they didn't shut-up and soon.

They reached the bathroom, and Kurt guided Blaine inside, leading him over to the sink and taking out a pack of tissues from his bag. He dabbed at Blaine's nose, pinching lightly over the bridge to stop it bleeding more, ignoring the confused, questioning look he received in return and grateful that there was at least something to do to break the uncomfortable silence.

He didn't know what to say. How did you go about apologising for standing there and doing nothing while someone tore you to shreds in front of an audience?

'I used to think it was because I was gay.'

Kurt's eyebrows drew together in confusion. Blaine's words had come out of nowhere and he wasn't sure what he meant.

'And that was ok. Well, n..not ok, but, you know, it…it was a..a reason at least. And I j..j..just had to wait t..till high school was over and I'd…I'd move out of Ohio and then everything would be different.'

Kurt could feel his heart breaking in his chest; he had never heard anyone sound so desperately lonely, and so resigned to it, in his life.

'B…but then you came along, and you were out and p..proud and head cheerleader and everyone j..just loved you. That's when I realised it was nothing to do with being…being g..gay. It was just me. People just didn't like me, and f…finishing high school and m…moving away wasn't going to do anything about that, so…so I…I might as well just start getting used to being alone.'

He took the tissue out of Kurt's hand and stepped away.

Kurt he didn't know what to do, what to say to make it better. After all, he had been part, a big part of the problem for so long. He couldn't pretend that he hadn't seen Blaine be shunned and ignored every day at school, hadn't laughed along with everyone else when he'd been tripped in the corridor or had slushies tossed in his face. What right did he have to just apologise, as if that would take it all back, make everything better?

'_Well_,_' _he thought to himseld, '_sometimes there are no words. Sometimes nothing you say or do will make the slightest bit of difference. Sometimes you need actions_.'

Without stopping to think about what he was about to do, Kurt walked up to Blaine and kissed him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry I had to make Santana such a bitch, but it needed to be done.<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Really sorry about that 2 month wait. Got totally killed by work for a bit. **

* * *

><p>Blaine was in a state of shock, just as he had been for the past 3 hours. Just as he had been since Kurt had walked up to him, held his face between his hands and kissed him. Since he had held his face between his hands, kissed him and then ran away. <em>Literally <em>ran away. Turned tail, fled the bathroom and sprinted down the corridor as fast as his perfectly toned legs could carry him. Which, as it turned out, was a hell of a lot faster than Blaine's untrained ones could manage. He had barely made it halfway down the hall before slumping against the wall, chest heaving as he watched Kurt disappear around the corner.

And now here he sat, alone in his bedroom (like usual), skipping out on his afternoon classes (definitely _not_ like usual), desperately willing Kurt to pick up his phone or answer his texts or something, anything, just so he had some clue as to what the hell was going on.

He flopped backwards onto his bed,arms splayed out beside him dramatically.

How was this his life?

If a few weeks ago someone had told him that he would kiss, no, _be kissed by_ the most beautiful, talented, popular boy in school, and more than just that, that they would actually get along; laugh and joke and tease each other, he would have told them they were crazy.

And now? Now he was beginning to think he must be the one who was crazy.

Kurt had kissed him. Just minutes after it being very publically announced that he had a boyfriend. A hot, college-going boyfriend, apparently. Why on gods-green-earth would Kurt want to kiss him when he had a guy like that he could be making out with?

And wow, did the thought of Kurt making out with someone else, someone infinitely better than him, hurt a hell of a lot more than he would ever have imagined. His chest ached with it.

He flung his arm over his face and growled in frustration.

He wasn't prepared to deal with this; emotionally, socially…his life so far had prepared him for homework and college and getting a good job; not for flirting and jealousy and…and _kissing. _

God, even just thinking about it made him blush. He was such loser. He didn't have the slightest hint of a clue how to kiss someone. No wonder Kurt had got the hell out of dodge. He was probably awful at it, embarrassingly bad. And Kurt was probably off somewhere laughing with his…his _boyfriend… _about him. How could he have even entertained the idea that he was good enough for Kurt Hummel?

And now he was going to have to go back to school tomorrow, and not only would he not have his lessons with Kurt to look forward to, but he was going to have to face everyone after he had been publically humiliated and ran away in tears. _And _probably get detention for skipping classes.

He felt the tell-tale sting of tears behind his eyes.

It served him right, he supposed, for every believing he deserved anything more.

* * *

><p>Kurt dropped his bag by the door and trudged towards the kitchen. He slumped down in the first chair he came to and dropped his head into his hands.<p>

'You're home late. Cheerios or tutoring?' Burt called out his shoulder.

'Neither.'

Hearing Kurt's dejected tone, Burt turned around, shocked to see him so upset. Kurt didn't elucidate further, but Burt knew that he really needed to talk. He also knew that if he didn't play this right he could very easily cause him to clam up completely.

'Bad day?' He asked cautiously.

Kurt lifted his head slowly.

'Dad, I think…I'm…am I a horrible person?'

'What? Burt's eyebrows raised in confusion, 'where's this coming from?'

'I just…when did I get like this, dad? When did I care more about being popular, about getting some meaningless texts from people I don't even like than actually being nice? Than doing well at school and trying to actually make something of myself?'

'Don't be so hard on yourself, kid,' Burt said softly, sitting himself down beside Kurt. 'It's nice to be popular, intoxicating. You're not the first to get drawn in by it.'

'But it's like I'm not even myself any more. You can't say you haven't noticed it. We used to be close and I barely even talk to you anymore.'

'Kurt, I'm gonna ask you a question and I want you to be honest, ok.'

Kurt looked up, unsure, but nodded anyway.

'Does this have anything to do with Blaine?'

Kurt's eyes widened in surprise. How was it that obvious to someone else when he had barely even realised it himself? _'Well,' _he thought, '_guess it's time to finally be honest with myself.'_

'I… think I like him, dad,' he started quietly. 'He's sweet and so smart and actually kind of funny once he gets past his adorable social awkwardness,' he said with a fond smile. 'I just…the way they treat him in school. How have I never seen it before? They're so awful to him and I've never even noticed. Or, no, that's not true, I've noticed, I just didn't care. What kind of person does that make me?'

'It makes you a teenager, Kurt, a teenager who made a few wrong choices. Everyone makes mistakes and the fact that you know what yours are and what to change is a good thing, a great thing.'

'But that's just the thing, dad. I know I've been awful and I want to change, I really do, but…' he trailed off, waving his hand in the air as if that would magically make the words appear for him.

'But you're scared?' Burt supplied instead. 'You don't want to give up the popularity and go back to how things were before? Don't want to risk you becoming the school target instead of Blaine?'

Kurt gave a rueful smile.

'Yep, yep and yep. What do I do, dad? I don't know if I'm strong enough to deal with all of that again. It was horrible.'

Burt sighed, trailing his hand over his head. When did parenting get so hard? He missed diapers and scraped knees. At a loss for what to say, he decided to change tac.

'What happened today, Kurt? What brought all this on?'

'Blaine and I were fooling around in the library… not like that, jeez, dad,' he said, blushing beet red at his father's expression. 'Just, ya know, joking, messing around. Anyway, Santana saw and she came up and started screaming at Blaine, really ripping into him, and everyone was just crowding round and laughing. And he was looking at me with those damn eyes, and he looked so upset and just pleading with me to say something so he wasn't just standing there alone, and I couldn't do it, I just couldn't. And he looked like I'd completely betrayed him. And he ran off and then some arsehole tripped him up. I mean, was it not bad enough that he'd just been humiliated in front of everyone, they had to go and physically hurt him on top of it all. I used to call these people my friends; I used to laugh when they did stuff like that. What was wrong with me?'

'What did you do this time?' Burt asked quietly.

'I went after him. I mean, he was crying and bleeding and no-one was doing anything. I couldn't just leave him there.'

'Well it seems to me like you've made your choice, Kurt. And I have to say, I've never been prouder of you. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but you're strong and proud, and smart when you actually put your mind to it. Blaine's been a good influence on you and I think you've probably been a good influence on him too; he could barely meet my eyes first time he was round here, now he's all smiles and jokes. I think maybe you two were made for each other.'

'_Made for each other.' _Kurt ran the words through his head. '_Made for each other.' _

Yeh, he liked the sound of that.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry it's so bitty...you can kind of tell that it was written over 2 months...<strong>


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